Shameless
by carryonmy-waywardson
Summary: Eames finds himself in a small country bar - lonely and recently without a job, when good looking man comes in. He's instantly attracted to the man, and finally finds someone that makes him feel less lonely, even for a little while.


Eames was sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he looked around the place; not many people occupied the building, mostly rough-types, the kind of men Eames seemed to be attracted to. His head snapped to the door when the small bell above the frame jingled, and he noticed three men walk in; one taller than the others, with a slight baby-face, the other two around the same height.

All three of these men wore the same outfit, essentially; a leather jacket, a t-shirt under than, with jeans and beat-up work boots. Eames sighed heavily and returned his attention back to the drink in front of him. He gave the golden liquid a soft swirl, before bringing the glass to his lips and draining the whiskey.

There was a shift beside Eames and he turned his head, seeing the oldest man - possibly the _father_of the other two - sit on a stool next to him. As he stared, Eames took in everything about this man; the way he pulled off the 'rugged' look, to the way his jaw looked covered in salt-and-pepper colored stubble.

The mysterious man turned to Eames, smiling and showing off dimples so deep that the Brit's heart thudded. Then his mind reverted back to Cobb's reasoning for letting him go; he would get attracted to their clientele and either scare them away, or fuck them - compromising the job. Three times out of five, the latter was the reason Cobb always chastised Eames, therefore leading to an early retirement for the Forger.

"Can I get you another?" The man's voice was gruff, low, and Eames struggled to form a coherent sentence; he nodded, sliding his glass toward the barkeep. The man beside him chuckled and nodded, turning his attention back to the women behind the bar.

"My name's John," Eames looked up, seeing that John was turned toward him, the smile on his face wider than before. Swallowing hard, the Brit grabbed for the glass of whiskey and ran his thumb along the side.

"Eames. Nice to meet you," Eames croaked out, his accent suddenly thicker than it had _ever _been, and he smiled tentatively at John. Before Eames knew it a large hand was moving toward him, and he swallowed hard, yet again, before slipping his own hand into John's.

"Those," John cocked his head toward a table, where the two guys he'd come in with, "The one on the right is Sam, and the other is Dean - they're my sons." John dropped Eames' hand and wrapped it around his bottle of beer before bringing it to his lips, draining some of the liquid.

"I could tell," Eames nodded pointedly at John's outfits before moving his gaze to Sam and Dean, smiling softly. When he heard John laugh, Eames dropped his gaze and grabbed the glass, bringing it to his lips and pouring the liquid down his throat.

"So, you're British," John mumbled around the lip of his bottle, before tipping it back and emptying the bottle half-way. Eames nodded and tilted his glass on the edge of it's base, rolling it back and forth.

"How could you tell, darling?" Eames moved his attention to John and chuckled, setting the glass back down before turning around on his stool. He rested his feet against the bar going across the bottom and moved his eyes across the room, listening to John's shallow breathing.

"The accent, and the fact that you called me _darling_." John chuckled and turned, giving Eames a grin before turning back. Eames felt his heart thump again and sighed, closing his eyes as he rested his elbow on the bar and held his head up.

"So, what are you in town for?" John's voice made Eames jump slightly, and he opened his eyes, locking them on John's. He shrugged and laid his arm on the bar, tapping his fingers on the wood top.

"I just needed a change of scenery, love," Eames smiled, his fingers accidentally brushing over the sleeve of John's jacket. He watched John squint his eyes, watching a smile creep over his face before he nodded, lifting his beer bottle yet again.

"What about you, darling? Family road trip?" Eames cocked his head, fingertips brushing along the soft wood of the bar. He watched John's head shake, his attention move to the bottle in his hands, and suddenly regretted asking.

"It's none of my business, darling," Eames patted John's shoulder with his free hand and smiled, leaning in close. "Unless you want to tell me, or have another reason for being in town." Smirking, Eames pulled away and leaned back as far as he possibly could without falling back.

"We're here on a… job, of sorts." John turned his head slowly, giving Eames a half-grin before turning on his stool. They were facing each other and Eames took a second to look at John fully; he had brown eyes, stubble covering most of the lower half of his face and neck, and brown hair Eames wanted to grab.

"What kind of job?" Eames inhaled softly, keeping his eyes on John's, and keeping a smile on his face to ensure John that he _was _interested in what he was saying. John dropped his eyes and slid his hands together, slipping his fingers between each other and sighing heavily.

"It's hard to explain," John whispered and looked back up at Eames, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "It's not exactly conventional.." John sighed again and looked over at his boys, who were sitting with the bartender's daughter, Jo.

"Come outside, and I'll explain it to you." John smiled at Eames before turning to the door and walked toward it, hoping the Brit would opt to stay back. As he stepped closer to the door, John heard the screech of wooden legs scratching against the floor, followed by the thud of footsteps.

John opened the door and walked out, holding it open for Eames as he stepped out into the cold air. When Eames joined him on the small porch-like thing, he nodded to the right, toward his car. Eames watched John walk toward the car and followed, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Stopping, John leaned against the hood of the Impala, leaving enough room for Eames to stand beside him.

"My family and I, we hunt things," John moved his hands to his pockets, fumbling with various items within the denim - car keys, loose change, a screw, and a zippo. As he collected his thoughts, thinking of how to _explain_ his job to this stranger, John stared ahead, watching the sun sink behind the trees.

"We hunt certain things that your parents might have told you weren't real; ghosts, vampires, demons, that sort of thing." As he spoke, John's attention went back to Eames, whose forehead was furrowed slightly. Chuckling, John pulled a hand out of his pocket and ran long fingers through his hair.

"I know, I sound nuts, but it's true," John scratched the back of his neck lightly, eyes on the gravel beneath his feet. His head snapped up when he heard Eames chuckle and felt the man's hand on his shoulder.

"I believe you, darling. My co-workers and I, back in Paris, encountered a 'hunter,' and needed their assistance before we could go forth with a job." Eames dropped his hand and stepped around, standing in front of John. "But I never thought I'd meet a hunter as handsome as you, John."

What happened next stunned John and he didn't think twice about it; Eames' lips were pressed against his own, while hands gripped his hips roughly. John groaned against Eames' lips, hands moving against the Brit's back; he didn't know if he was trying to push Eames away, or pull him closer, so John just went with it.

Kissing back, John slipped a hand to the back of Eames' neck and pulled him closer, tongue darting out and lapping at the Brit's bottom lip. Eames opened his mouth to allow John's tongue in and pressed the hunter against the car, fingers gripping his jeans roughly.

John pulled away, panting slightly as he rested a hand on Eames' chest and gave him a light shove. Eames raised his eyebrows at the move and was about to ask why John did it, before feeling a finger pressing against his lips.

"We can't do it out in the open like this. My sons might see me." John was almost breathless, both from kissing Eames _and _the thought of getting caught by his sons. He pushed Eames away before walking around the front of the car and to the driver's side. "Get in," he motioned to the car before opening the door and climbing in, fishing the keys out of his pocket.

Turning the car on, just as Eames shut the door, John pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the road. The whole time, his mind was reeling; he knew it was stupid to have sex with someone he had _just_ met, but he didn't care. It had been so long since he'd been with anyone, that John didn't care if he was _fucking_ a stranger.

John pulled off onto an old gravel road and stopped the car half-way down, when they were far enough away from the main road. He shut the car off and turned, pulling Eames to him and crashing their lips together, kissing the Brit roughly. Eames kissed back as he unzipped John's jacket and pushed it back, trying to pull it off the hunter but letting it fall off John's shoulders.

The hunter pulled back and ripped his jacket off, throwing it onto the backseat before his hands were on the button of his jeans. He undid his pants quickly, yanking them down, along with his boxers, just far enough to be comfortable. Scooting to the middle of the seat, John wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and gave it a tug.

Eames watched his every move; the way he slid his jeans down and wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it until he was hard. Biting his lip, Eames removed his dress jacket and laid it on the backseat before kicking his shoes off onto the floorboard. John watched the Brit as he undid his pants and pulled them off, throwing them in the backseat, along with his boxers.

"Come here," John whispered, pulling his hand away from his cock and grabbing Eames' hand. The Brit obliged, straddling John's lap, feeling the hunter's cock pressing against his own. Eames moaned and rested his arms on John's shoulders, lifting his ass up, feeling the hunter's hand moving up his thigh.

"Ready to get fucked?" John whispered, bringing his free hand to Eames' lips just as the Brit nodded. Smiling, John pressed two fingers against Eames' lips, feeling them open up and then wrap around the digits. John closed his eyes as Eames sucked his fingers sloppily, making wet sucking noises while taking the digits in until the last knuckle.

"That's good," John moaned out, pulling his fingers from Eames' lips with a _pop_, before his hand disappeared underneath the Brit. Slipping a finger over Eames' ass, John watched the Brit's face; watched his lips part slightly as the hunter's finger slipped inside of him.

John slid his finger deeper inside of Eames, up to the second knuckle, as he listened to the man's breathing. With a smile, John slipped a second finger into the Brit and started scissoring him slowly, getting him ready for his cock. When Eames' whimpering turned into sounds of pleasure, John pulled his fingers out and dug around in his pocket for a condom.

Retrieving the wrapper, John brought it to his lips and tore the package open with his teeth. Eames watched with a hand on his cock, stroking it slowly as John slipped the condom down onto his own hard cock, before bringing a hand to his lips. The hunter spit, generously, on his hand and rubbed the saliva over his cock before gripping Eames' hips.

John slid down the seat a little, lining his cock up with Eames' ass before pulling the Brit down onto him, moaning at the tight heat wrapping around his cock. Shutting his eyes, Eames moaned and moved his hands to John's hair, taking two handfuls and gripping softly, relaxing his muscles and allowing John to slip even further inside of him.

"Oh god," John moaned, pulling Eames down until his cock was buried into the Brit. Smiling, Eames started rocking his hips on John's cock, feeling his own throb as he moved a hand, wrapping it around the base. As he stroked his own cock, Eames began riding John slowly, clenching his muscles around the hunter's shaft.

Both men were panting; John gripping Eames' hips roughly as the Brit gripped the hunter's hair and began riding him harder, slamming his hips down against John. Moaning loudly, John pushed his hips up against Eames and digging his fingers into the Brit's hips hard enough that he was _sure_ there would be bruises tomorrow.

Eames kept riding John as hard and fast as he could in the small space, panting as he started to sweat and stroke his cock faster. John started slamming him down even rougher, hitting Eames' prostate and causing him to scream out and tighten his grip around his cock.

Feeling his body tense, Eames stroked his cock harder, feeling his balls tighten just before he blew hot, thick streams of cum on John's shirt. Panting, Eames went limp, allowing John to continue slamming his hips down onto his cock, groaning in the Brit's ear that he was going to cum.

One more rough thrust, and John buried his cock deep inside of Eames as he came, groaning and grunting, feeling sweat drip down his face and neck. He rode the orgasm out by barely pushing into Eames until he stopped cumming, then he sat still, arms wrapping around the Brit.

They sat like that for minutes, before Eames pushed himself off of John and winced, falling to the passenger seat with a soft thud. Their breathing was returning to normal, and Eames grabbed his clothes, putting them on as he watched John get rid of his shirt.

Stifling a giggle, Eames watched John strip off his shirt and get out of the car, walking to the trunk. He heard the trunk pop open and leaned back against the seat, not moving a muscle. John changed shirts and tossed the cum-stained one into his duffel bag before shutting the trunk and climbing back into the car.

"I guess we should get back, my boys are probably ready to go." John huffed, smiling as he looked over at Eames, who was sweaty, with his clothes disheveled. Turning back to the windshield, John turned the car on and backed up, backing onto the road before heading back to The Roadhouse.

Parking on the side of the building, John shut the car off and leaned over, opening the glove compartment before pulling out a small notepad and pen. He jotted something down, ripped the paper out and smiled at Eames, handing him the paper.

"This is my number; you need me, or just want to see me, give it a ring. If my sons answer, tell them you're an old friend from a job." John pulled back and opened the door, stepping out into the night and shutting the door. Eames folded the note and shoved it into his pocket before he got out of the car and shut his door.

"I'll see you, darling." Eames smiled and patted John on the shoulder before they went their separate ways; John back into the bar, and Eames to his car. Both men couldn't stop thinking about their experience together, and they both wished it would happen again.

Eames drove away with a smug smile on his face, his eyes glancing at the rapidly shrinking Roadhouse in the rear view mirror. He had a feeling he'd be seeing John again, sometime _soon_, and he couldn't wait.


End file.
